I Heard the Bells
by Sophia the Scribe
Summary: "It was as if an earthquake rent / the hearthstones of a continent..." Red Robin, on Christmas Eve, in Gotham city. Holiday songfic to Longfellow's "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day."


Disclaimer: DC Comics owns Red Robin and all his connections. If Emmanuel Lutheran Church really existed, it, its pastor, cantor, and congregation would belong to the LC-MS. _I Heard the Bells_ belongs to Longfellow, _Hark! The Herald Angels Sing_ to Wesley, _Silent Night_ to Gruber, and _God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen_ to the public at large.

This story is set several years in the future of my story _Though He Fall_. It is not necessary to have read that one to understand this one, the main premise being that Tim Drake is now a Christian.

* * *

 **I Heard the Bells**

by Sophia the Scribe

* * *

I heard the bells on Christmas Day  
Their old, familiar carols play,  
And wild and sweet  
The words repeat  
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was Christmas Eve, and Red Robin swung through the snowy Gotham night. This, of course, was not unusual; actually, the most unusual aspect of the scene was the fact that, so far, none of Batman's rogues had broken the stillness of the night with some diabolical Santa-themed plot of destruction.

 _No_ , Red Robin thought as he turned down a street in response to a feminine scream, _just robberies, rapes, and gang shootings_.

He careened into the criminal's side, instantly knocking him out, reached out a gauntleted hand to help the girl up, and then conducted her though the gritty slush to the door of Emmanuel Lutheran Church, where she was planning to attend the Christmas Eve service. High overhead the bell tower was ringing out Christmas carols, and the strains of _Hark! The Herald Angels Sing_ provided a welcome distraction from Gotham City's usual background noise of shouts, shots, and blaring sirens.

And thought how, as the day had come,  
The belfries of all Christendom  
Had rolled along  
The unbroken song  
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Now, Red Robin did not recognize the specific girl he had rescued, but Emmanuel was the church to which Tim Drake semi-regularly had shown up since he'd gotten caught in that alien crossfire (accidentally, as the public thought) and been sent on a quest by Commissioner Gordon.

He had never attended a Christmas Eve service, however: too many crazies targeted the biggest holiday of the year for their ruthless schemes for Red Robin to take that night off. But each year, if he could spare the time, he swung by Emmanuel during the preservice carillon concert to take just a few minutes of peace amid the evening's chaos.

Till ringing, singing on its way,  
The world revolved from night to day,  
A voice, a chime,  
A chant sublime  
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

So it was that, after delivering the girl safely through the red doors, he shot off a grapple line and landed lightly on the roof, and amid the still-pure white of falling snow and joyful ringing of glad tidings he sat on the apex, wrapping his heavy cape around him and leaning against the steeple. He tilted his head back to the cold metal, closed his eyes (though not his senses—this was Gotham still) to his surroundings, and determined to hear the rest of _Hark_ before continuing patrol.

But as the last "Glory to the Newborn King!" dissolved into the city's not-silence and the opening strains of _Silent Night_ just began, as Red Robin was slowly walking the roofline away from the steeple to continue the never-ending battle, his com-link pinged.

Then from each black, accursed mouth  
The cannon thundered in the South,  
And with the sound  
The carols drowned  
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

"All responders, Sector RR-5, urgent," came Oracle's never-panicked voice. "Red Robin, Two-Face is bombing Emmanuel Lutheran Church in 6 minutes 25 seconds. Batman is attempting interception but outcome is not guaranteed. Begin evacuation immediately."

"Roger." Red Robin reversed course and swung into the bell tower, breaking off "sleep in heavenly…" without its resolution as the cantor faltered on the pitches and stared at him open-mouthed.

"Get out, now," the vigilante said, automatically pitching his voice lower into its Red Robin register so that the church's high-donor but low-attender Tim Drake would not be recognized. "Two-Face is bombing the church."

Without waiting for a response—indeed, knowing that the cantor would immediately obey—he ran down the winding stairs into the church's balcony, threaded his way through the stunned choir, and jumped onto the railing with perfect balance and an attention-drawing clap that echoed through the suddenly-silent sanctuary.

"Evacuate immediately," he commanded. "Two-Face is bombing the church."

For a moment no one moved, and infusing his voice with a little more Batman-command and giving the pastor a hard glare for good measure, he barked out, "Move!"

The reaction was instantaneous, as everyone began rushing for the exits. The chaos deepened as people tripped, babies cried, and the pastor began shouting to make himself heard above the din.

"Calmly, everyone! One row at a time! Mr. Jennings, Mr. Ashton, usher people out! Ralph, get that emergency door open. Then call 9-1-1!"

Red Robin swung to the front row, grabbed two of the pastor's four children and told his wife to follow with the others, and burst out of the sacristy exit with a line of Sunday Schoolers in tow. He turned around and fought back in through the crowd, finally reaching the chancel where the pastor was still directing his parishioners' evacuations before taking himself out of danger. Just as the two ushers cleared the narthex double doors and Red Robin was rushing his Pastor out, his internal timer ran down and he tackled him to the floor, tucking his head and pulling the cape to shield them both.

It was as if an earthquake rent  
The hearth-stones of a continent,  
And made forlorn  
The households born  
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

 _Bang-bang!_ went Two-Face's distinctive dual explosives, and burning debris rained down from the crumbling walls to burn and bruise both vigilante and civilian. Then the falling rocks stopped and the fire started, and Red Robin sprang up again, dragging the pastor with him as he sprinted toward the closest gap, the shattered stained-glass window that had once read, "And in Jesus Christ, his Son, our Lord." Flames licked their heels as he bodily threw the pastor from the burning church and barreled unceremoniously out after him.

Chaos reigned almost worse outside the building. Police sirens were blaring, firemen were hooking up their hoses, someone was screaming and someone else was having hysterics. Various crowds from the streets were gazing on in fascination, and overhead Two-Face's black helicopter was flying away, its task accomplished.

"Red Robin here," he said into his com-link. "Evacuation was successfully completed." He looked at the pastor's wife hugging her husband for all she was worth, then dragging him over to the just-arrived paramedics.

"Roger," replied Oracle. "Batman is on the verge of taking down the helicopter, and Nightwing has apprehended Two-Face. Good job on the evacuation, Red."

Silently he nodded. "Red Robin out."

And in despair I bowed my head;  
"There is no peace on earth," I said;  
"For hate is strong,  
And mocks the song  
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Red Robin turned, then, from the hectic scene of professionals and civilians, and gazed at the burning remains of the once-beautiful church, the once-joyfully ringing carillon tower. The iron cross from the steeple lay smoking on the scorched grass, and the vigilante silently knelt by it.

 _Where is the peace on earth?_ he wondered. _In eternity, perhaps, God will set all things right and give peace to his people. But on earth?_

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up into the Pastor's face. Apparently released from the paramedics, his eyes followed the vigilante's solemn gaze.

Together, they grasped the iron cross and set it upright amid the ruin.

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:  
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;  
The Wrong shall fail,  
The Right prevail,  
With peace on earth, good-will to men."

Together they stood, and together turned around to face the crowd that was still rushing and swelling with panic, and the Pastor began singing,

"God rest ye, merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay…"

Timothy added his voice to the hymn,

"For Jesus Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day…"

More of the surrounding crowd joined,

"To save us all from Satan's power when we were gone astray…"

And finally the whole congregation, as well as several first responders and curious bystanders, raised up their voices in defiance of the world's destruction and affirmation of the certain hope of heaven,

"O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy, o tidings of comfort and joy!"

And as the hymn continued, Red Robin once again raised his eyes toward the sky, and thought,

 _Perhaps God has a sense of humor; I am finally at the Christmas Eve service._

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A/N: I am, as you may see by reading my profile, an LC-MS Lutheran, and Emmanuel Lutheran Church, while not "real," is based on characteristics of several different churches I have attended or visited throughout the years. The cross was inspired by that picture of the iron cross at 9/11 Ground Zero. And yes, the Apostle's Creed stained glass windows really do exist in a beautiful church in small-town Missouri.

Have a very Happy Christmas, everyone, and please review!

Sophia the Scribe


End file.
